The Vampire Detectives (Bjorn and Zyro #1)[COMPLETED]

1: Blood on the Market

The moon hung low over Barotac Nuevo, casting pale beams over the bustling marketplace. Even at midnight, the air smelled of fresh fish, overripe fruit, and the metallic tang of blood.

Bjorn's sharp eyes scanned the crowd as he and Zyro weaved through the narrow stalls. The scent of wet fur was faint, but unmistakable.

Zyro's fangs flashed as he grinned. "Looks like we've found our prey."

Bjorn nodded, tightening his grip on his weapon. "Let's hunt."

Zyro clenched his jaw, his hand resting on the silver hilt of his blade beneath his coat. Werewolves didn't usually venture into town, not like this—not in packs.

"This isn't like them," Zyro muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. His crimson eyes glinted in the dim light, focused on something just beyond the stalls. "Too bold."

"Or too desperate," Bjorn replied, his deep voice laced with suspicion. He shifted, alert to every sound.

The townsfolk were oblivious, bartering over the day's catch, unaware that predators far deadlier than themselves were among them.

*****

"Smells like a pack," Zyro muttered under his breath. "But something's off."

Bjorn nodded, his eyes scanning the sea of faces around them. "They're trying to stay hidden, but they're not alone."

As they reached the far corner of the market, the atmosphere shifted. The bustling sounds quieted, and the crowd parted almost instinctively. It was then that they saw them—werewolves, standing in the shadows near an old warehouse. Their fur bristled under the dim market lights, their eyes glowing with an eerie intensity.

Before Bjorn could make a move, the sound of clattering bones echoed from the opposite direction. Emerging from between two stalls were the Skeletal pirates—grinning skulls, cloaked in black, their hollow eye sockets fixed on the werewolves.

"Well, well, look who's here," one of the pirates sneered, his voice like gravel scraping across a stone. "Thought you could make a deal without us noticing?"

The lead werewolf, a hulking figure with dark gray fur, bared his teeth. "We're not here for you, pirate scum."

"Funny," the pirate captain said, stepping forward, his skeletal fingers gripping the hilt of a cutlass. "Because I've sensed you brought back-up. Or are we supposed to believe you were just strolling through our market for fun?"

Zyro shot a look at Bjorn. "They think the wolves brought someone else?"

Bjorn's eyes narrowed. "That doesn't add up."

The werewolf leader growled, his claws flexing. "We don't need back-up for the likes of you. Whatever you're selling, we're not buying."

"Oh, I think you are," the pirate sneered, his skeletal crew spreading out, their bony fingers reaching for the ultraviolet ammunition strapped to their belts. "You bought your own reinforcements, didn't you? Trying to pull one over on us, you flea-ridden mutts."

The accusation hung in the air, thick with tension. Bjorn could see it now—this wasn't just a meeting. It was a setup, one that was about to explode into chaos.

Zyro stepped closer to Bjorn, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "This is going sideways fast."

"Let them make the first move," Bjorn muttered, eyes locked on the pirates. "If we jump in too soon, we'll be the next targets."

The werewolf leader growled low in his throat. A smile crept from his face, knowing they're all pretending.

Bjorn and Zyro had been following their trails for over weeks now.